


The Sketchbook

by DevBasaa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ficlet, Gift Fic, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevBasaa/pseuds/DevBasaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment in time between Steve and Bucky, while unpacking boxes of Steve's things from DC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sketchbook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reclusiveq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reclusiveq/gifts).



> Gift ficlet for [reclusiveq](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reclusiveq/pseuds/reclusiveq), a little pick-me-up after a bad day.

~*~

“What’s this?”

“Hmm?” Steve poked through yet another box he hadn’t opened since he’d packed up his place in DC. At the time, everything had been a rush in the midst of chaos. He hadn’t even bothered to think about what should go where. Everything had been tossed into cardboard and shipped to New York.

Only now, two years later, did he remember these bits of his life still existed.

So much had happened in two years.

“Steve?”

Steve glanced up from a half-emptied box and smiled at one of the most surprising changes in his life. Bucky stood over another opened box and held aloft a green, spiral bound notebook.

“What’s this?” Bucky said again, gesturing the book forward.

“That’s my–” But Steve paused, recalling what lay between the plastic covers: scribbled memories, sketched daydreams, painstaking drawings of hopes and broken dreams.

He reached for the book. “My sketchbook.”

But before Steve could even brush his fingers against the paper edges, Bucky drew it back.

“Your sketchbook?” Bucky flopped the book down on the table, next to the box he was unpacking. He flipped open the cover.

“Hey, wait–” Steve darted around the table corner to Bucky’s side, his hand out for the book. Bucky blocked his grab with a quick, metal swat.

“You always let me look at your sketchbook, so don’t be all–” But as Bucky flipped one page after another, his voice drifted off. Steve sagged against the table as Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky looked up, his mouth open a moment before he said, “These are all of me.”

Steve attempted a half smile and his ears felt warm. “Yeah.”

Bucky flipped a few more pages. Pictures of him as a child, pictures in uniform, as a young man sitting nude in a chair. Standing naked in sunlight. Steve remembered drawing each line.

“I guess I thought you’d draw pictures of Peggy.”

Steve shrugged one shoulder. “She has her own book.”

Bucky glanced up; his eyes seemed overly bright. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “You really missed me.”

Steve’s heartbeat stuttered. Did Bucky still doubt? He shifted closer and smiled. “Of course I did. You were– _are_ …very important to me.”

Bucky swallowed and clenched his jaw, then nodded. “Thanks.” The word came out tight, cut with emotion.

Steve brushed his hand over Bucky’s; he let it linger. “Anytime.”

 

~end~


End file.
